A gas leak at
the end of the street
blocks the bin-men
from doing their rounds

& so the rubbish builds towers

It spills drips ,
comes colourful over the
rusted edge of its
tin bath Finally

the sun is here in time
for the gas leak

Up stew the smells of
the street as more bin laughs
appear & are filled to overflow
Colourful tops of packaging
, rotting veg, white cloud bags

All that marketing
broken rainbows
is pretty ,too, toss
peck torn & fuzzed
across the way by crows

From a night out (
through the warm day
) I found my keys
& felt the stench upon me
appear & are filled to overflow
No bin-men towers
, the place I live, the smell.